You groan. "Ugh, when will you ever just smile?"
Your wife Miranda shakes her head. "I don't know," she replies softly. She looks uncomfortable for a moment, as if regretting the fact that she can't satisfy you.
You sigh, exhaling a long breath. Really, there must be something that can make her smile or something! You look around the room. A table, scrolls pilied on top of it. Unlit torches. Your sword in its hilt. Your armour.stands limply at one corner. Not a very royal looking place for a king, but your country is poor. Already, this is a luxury.
"Then what do you like?" you demand. As a king, you can't not make your beloved wife happy, right?
Miranda looks down. "I don't know," she answers sheepishly.
An urge to hit her rises. Of course, you can't just do that. After all, it was your decision to marry her. You can't blame her.
It is getting dark now. You light the torches, feeling helpless. What kind of king can't make his wife happy? Well, only him.
Miranda stares into the distance, a ghost of a smile on her lips. You pause, surprised to see that.
"Did you just smile?" you demand.
Her smile disappeared. "No, I did not."
Whatever.
~~
"Come with me, Miranda," you call.
Miranda looks up from her embroidery. "What?" she asks, but obediently follows you outside.
If you could, you would have rubbed your hands gleefully, but you can't give the surprise away. You lead Miranda to the huge courtyard, grinning. "I have a surprise for you..."
"What is it?" she asks curiously.
"If I told you," you scold, "then the surprise would be ruined."
Miranda only lets out a "Hmm" in response.
The haystack stands proudly on the stone flooring. It is midnight, and the torches gripped in the soldiers' hands blaze in the darkness. You sneak a peek at your wife, but her face is perfectly expressionless, with only a faint trace of curiosity.
Your grin broadens. Time for the surprise.
"Light it!" you order. Your voice echoes into the night.
The soldiers thrust their lit torches forward. The hay catches fire. You glance back at Miranda, who looks like she's trying not to smile. Well, she will all right. Flames lick the haystack and spread. In a matter of seconds, an inferno of orange eats at the haystack. The fire roars as it slowly obliterates the hay.
Miranda can't help but smile. Your heart leaps and you quietly celebrate, having achieved the goal of making her smile. Your happiness is interrupted by the arrival of a soldier.
"Your Majesty! There are civilians outside the palace!" he declares.
You frown. "Why are they there?" you demand.
"They saw the fire and they rushed here to help," he returns.
You return back to gazing at your wife. Waving a casual hand, you order, "Tell them to go away. The fire's not going to burn down the palace, after all."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The soldier scurries away.
Wisps of ashes remain, the aftermath of the fire. You look at your wife and clasps her hand in yours. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is." she replies, smiling.
Your heart swells with happiness.
~~
"Your Majesty! Come, we must evacuate!"
You sit up, rubbing your eyes groggily. "Why?" you ask. Then the acrid smell of smoke wafts into the room. Instantly, your mind returns from dreamland.
"The enemy is attacking the palace!" The servant fidgets nervously. "And now most of the palace is on fire!"
"Then what about the soldiers?" You strap on your heavy armour and grab your halberd.
"Most of them are dead, Your Majesty. They can't hold it any longer!" The servant glances around, as if wanting to escape immediately.
You aren't that cowardly. "Then aren't the peasants coming to help?" you demand.
"They thought that it's just one of those things, Your Majesty," he replies.
You pound your halberd against the ground. "It's all her fault!" you hiss. If it wasn't for Miranda! "Where is Miranda?"
"She's wating for Your Majesty to evacuate along with her." He is getting antsy, but you can barely contain your fury.
"It's all her fault, and she still has the nerve to wait for me?" you roar. "Well, I'm coming, Miranda!"
Quickly, you make your way down to the secret exit, the servant trailing after you. She's going to get it, you think grimly. Well, she deserves it.
Miranda's horse walks around, as nervous as her. She looks relieved at your approach. "Come, Your Majesty! We must escape!"
"It's all your fault, traitor!" you thunder, hefting the halberd.
Her face falls. "What do you mean?"
"You know clearly what I mean. I thought you could be trusted. And now the result is this!" You wave your free hand at the crackling fire. Before any general can stop you, you behead your wife.
"Your Majesty!" they cry.
You ignore their protests. "Come, let's go before the whole palace burns down."
They obey. The sound of horses galloping ricochets into the night. What that is left of your battered army flees along. As you pick your way through the hills, you look up at the sky, only to see flames.
It is a terrible position. There is no way to escape, for hills lurk ahead. You cannot outrun the onslaught of fire arrows. All around you, people collapse. You barely avoid getting hit by the arrows by deflecting them with your sword. But that isn't the worst yet to come.
Huge rocks, burning rocks, roll down the hills. Screams erupt everywhere and you try to make your horse go forward, but your horse cowers. Fine. If your horse won't run, you will. You swing off the horse and run along, deflecting arrows along the way.
You scream. Your flesh is burning; a flaming stone has hit you from behind. Then suddenly you are surrounded by charging enemies: the last thing you see is an enemy swinging a sword, screaming a war cry.
Then the darkness comes.
